


A Drowsy Numbness Pains My Sense

by JEAikman



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Book 4: Broken Homes, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, everyone is tired and sad and Dr Walid just wants to make sure everyone's in working order, well kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 04:12:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3313469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JEAikman/pseuds/JEAikman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Nightingale arrived back at the Folly at three in the morning, looking as rumpled and as pissed off as I had ever seen him.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Ben Aaronovitch, <i>Broken Homes</i>, p. 352</p><p>Another missing scene, because apparently that's what I like writing for this fandom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Drowsy Numbness Pains My Sense

 

> _My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains_
> 
> _My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,_
> 
> _Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains_
> 
> _One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:_

  * John Keats, _Ode to a Nightingale_




 

 

> _Nightingale arrived back at the Folly at three in the morning, looking as rumpled and as pissed off as I had ever seen him._

  * Ben Aaronovitch, _Broken Homes_ , p. 352




 

* * *

 

 

After leaving the Night Witch in Molly's capable hands, feeling more exhausted than he had in – well, he couldn't remember exactly, but a good many years – Nightingale finally turned to Peter. The boy had found a corner of the room to sit in, and was watching Nightingale with a kind of wary hope. In a way, it reminded Nightingale of the faces of some of his old friends after the war, desperate for reassurance that, after the things they'd seen, there could still be hope, things could still be alright – that was how much his world had been turned around by Lesley's betrayal. He closed his eyes and pushed away the memories of those friends, and what they had died to retrieve for another day – Peter obviously needed him now.

 

“Are you alright?” He felt like wincing as soon as he asked the question. Of course Peter wasn't alright. He'd fallen out of a building and been tasered in the back by his best friend. The answering glare he got said more than enough. “I meant physically, Peter.” He said with a tired sigh, and his apprentice had to think about that one, which in Nightingale's opinion, was never a good sign. Peter only hesitated like that when he was about to lie.

“The paramedic checked me over.” Peter insisted. “I'm fine.”

“Did you tell said paramedic that you had been tasered?” He persisted, and Peter would not meet his gaze. Nightingale resisted the urge to shake his apprentice for his stubbornness, because that would likely do him more harm than good.

“I am calling Abdul right this second, and -”

“At three in the morning, sir?” Peter asked with a raised eyebrow, but Nightingale would not be swayed.

“Yes, at three in the morning, because I'd rather not wake up to find you collapsed dead somewhere, thank you very much.” The words came across sharper than he meant it, and Peter flinched backwards slightly in response to that.

“I'm not going to keel ov –" he caught Nightingale frowning at him and decided surrender would be the best option in this case. "Alright, fine, if it makes you feel better, sir.” He grumbled, lacking the energy to argue the point, and now that Nightingale was back, and capable of guarding the Folly himself, Peter let himself fall asleep.

 

Nightingale called on Frank to help him carry Peter back to his room, and then insisted he and his men could go home for the night. He called Abdul not a minute later, and the doctor, as it turned out, had been waiting for him to do so ever since he watched the news.

 

Whilst he waited for Abdul to arrive and examine Peter, he calmed his own anxiety some by reaching out and putting a hand over Peter's chest. Highly improper, of course, but Peter could have died, so he allowed himself the comfort of the steady up and down of Peter's breathing and the thumping of his heart under his hand. It sounded healthy enough to him, but Abdul was the expert.

 

“How is he?” Was the first thing Abdul asked when Nightingale answered the door and let him in. Nightingale didn't have a real answer, so he shrugged.

“He seems... well enough. He's sleeping now.” Abdul just hummed thoughtfully and gave Thomas a cursory glance.

“And how are you?”

“I'm not the one who survived a block of flats blowing up, am I?” He replied – and he honestly should have a firmer rein on his temper than this. “I'm perfectly fine.”

It was clear that Abdul did not believe him, but the Scot knew him too well to push further at that moment.

 

He gently shook Peter to wake him, because he doubted his apprentice wanted to be woken by the cold metal of a stethoscope. Peter blinked and then frowned sleepily.

“Sir? What is it – do we have a call out?” Of all the things - did he think Nightingale would have woken him up if there had been, after the day they'd just had?

“No, Peter. Abdul's just going to check you over – make sure there's no permanent damage.” Nightingale assured him. Peter let Nightingale help him sit up, since he seemed to be too exhausted to do it himself which, fair enough, he'd had a long day. Abdul put the stethoscope up against his back and listened intently for a few minutes.

“Sounds healthy enough to me, but I'd like to keep an eye on him over the next few days, just in case.” He ignored Peter's pout and his outburst of “I'm right here, you know!”. Nightingale nodded and thanked him, apologizing for getting him out of bed.

 

“Now, Thomas, you and that young man are my friends, and if it's within my power to keep you hale and healthy, I'll make sure that I do. Neither of you are ever an inconvenience.”

“All the same,” Nightingale continued. “Thank you.” And Abdul smiled at him then.

“You are always welcome.” With one last look to Peter, who had already fallen asleep again, he sighed and turned to leave. “You make sure he's alright over the next few days. I don't want him pushing himself too much in any way.” Nightingale nodded in agreement and saw the doctor to the door.

 

He closed it behind him and collapsed against it, from relief or despair or exhaustion he didn't know. All he knew was that one of his apprentices was in bed after having survived falling from a block of flats, and the other was, in fact, a turncoat. And to top it all off, there was now a Night Witch in their custody and he would have to figure out what to do about _that_. He and Peter would need each other more than ever now that Lesley was gone.

 

He held his head in his hands and wondered if he would ever be allowed to be happy without that happiness being snatched from under his nose, and he only hoped that he could fulfil his oath of protecting Peter, keeping him safe – the threat of the Faceless Man loomed over them, but that was a problem for another day. Nightingale dragged himself to his feet, made one last round through the Folly for his own peace of mind, checked on Peter and made sure Molly was still guarding their “guest” before retiring to his room and finally allowing himself to sleep – though he doubted that his dreams would be kind.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I seem to always write about the bits where Peter is sleeping. Hmm.
> 
> I like this a lot better than my previous one-shot for this fandom, but I still feel like I'm trying to find the right voice for it. 
> 
> Might be because I usually write fic for films/tv shows so I find it harder to visualise fics for books idk. Ah well, this is good practice.
> 
> And I shall stop using lines out of _Ode to a Nightingale_ as titles when I run out of poem.


End file.
